


Get Out

by ladypigswagon



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minotaur - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, post season 3B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypigswagon/pseuds/ladypigswagon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why do you always have to be a martyr?” Stiles mutters angrily, slouching in the hard plastic hospital chair. Chris doesn’t answer. Chris is currently asleep and blissfully unaware of Stiles bitter mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Out

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked: "Get out." with Chris/Stiles? If that's a pairing you write.  
> God it was an angst prompt and I wrote it as such and I'm sorry guys.

“Why do you always have to be a martyr?” Stiles mutters angrily, slouching in the hard plastic hospital chair. Chris doesn’t answer. Chris is currently asleep and blissfully unaware of Stiles bitter mood. 

“I was doing fine,” Stiles continues, ignoring the fact that Chris is unresponsive, “I was doing perfectly well but no, you just had to play the fucking hero and get gored by the minotaur. The minotaur that I managed to get back home with my awesome magic, my fucking advanced magic by the way, and I could probably have done it without you getting stabbed.”

The hospital machines beep in reply. It smells like detergent and death in the hospital. Ever since the nogitsune Stiles can’t remove that smell from his memory. It’s burned in there, like the smell of Scott’s despair and fear when the nogitsune stabbed him. Stiles runs a hand through his hair, grimacing when he realises that mud has dried into it. He hasn’t left the hospital since Chris was brought in, four hours ago. Admittedly the wound was rather shallow but they still wanted to keep Chris in for observation in case of infection. 

It hadn’t been shallow four hours ago. Four hours ago, it had been a gaping, gushing wound, something that couldn’t be stemmed by hands alone. Allison had been trying, hands getting soaked with her father’s blood and it just kept coming. Stiles was chanting in ancient Greek, the wolves trying to avoid the same fate as Chris, Kira trying to guide the minotaur away from the nearby road.

Stiles kept telling himself, the minotaur is only a baby, it’s just lost, send it home. He’d wanted to rip it apart. Still does. But he did the right thing. He sent it home. And then tried to stitch Chris back together with his remaining strength, hence why the wound isn’t completely closed. Stiles is tired, the kind of tired that he can feel aching in his bones but he doesn’t dare leave until Chris has woken up. He needs to know that he didn’t screw this up, do more damage than good. 

“The doctors said he’ll be fine,” a voice says from the doorway. Stiles turns in the chair to see Allison in the doorway. She has black bags under her red rimmed eyes. In her hands are cups of hospital coffee, which Stiles knows smells good but tastes bitter. Allison looks older. Stiles supposes they all do. So much for the vitality of youth or whatever.

“I need to hear it from him,” Stiles replies. Allison nods, handing over a styrofoam cup. Stiles accepts. He prepares himself for the bitterness but it’s still a shock. Allison perches on the end of the hospital bed while Stiles tires to hide his spluttering. They sit in silence, save for the whirr of the machinery and the general noise of the hospital. Stiles starts to wonder when the hospital became one of the places he spends the most time. College, his house, Scott’s house, Derek’s loft and Deaton’s clinic being the others. Sheriff’s station occasionally. Stiles doesn’t remember the last time he went bowling or saw a movie.

“Melissa said I can borrow a shower,” Allison says, derailing Stiles miserable train of thought. Since when was she standing. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stiles nods, rubbing his eyes. Hospital lights are so bright and invasive. It’s almost a miracle that Stiles manages to fall asleep at all, even if it is briefly. He wakes when he hears Chris cough. Stiles is the lightest sleeper now. 

“How do you feel?” Stiles asks, aware of the rasping quality of his voice.

“Like hell,” Chris mutters. Chris rubs the back of his neck and shoulder. “I did get gored after all.” 

He says it so casually, as if he hadn’t almost died. Stiles knows it’s a defence mechanism. Knows that Chris is a hunter and has probably had much worse but in this moment Stiles is furious. Furious because it shouldn’t have happened.

“Oh did you?” Stiles retorts, words dripping with venom, “I almost didn’t notice. It wasn’t like I had to send a baby minotaur back to it’s home and then use my remaining strength to stitch you back together before you bled out in your daughter’s arms.”

“Stiles,” Chris says, in a tone which indicates a forced calm.

“And the most annoying thing,” Stiles continues, “is that if you’d have just fucking believed in me instead of trying to be a fucking martyr then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Stiles I did what I thought was right,” Chris replies. His eyes are like steel. "I did it to protect you."

“PROTECT ME! I’m so sick of you thinking of me as a stupid kid,” Stiles says, “I’m a fucking spark and Deaton told you I could do this. Deaton said it plainly without all of that cryptic bullshit he usually spouts and you still didn’t believe me. You still think I’m that high school sophomore, running after Scott to stop him maiming somebody with no clue what to do.”

“Stiles,” Chris says, voice low and commanding, “Get out.”

“You are the most stupid, arrogant, irritating-”

“Get Out,” Chris shouts, stopping Stiles tirade. Stiles pales, notes the fire bring in Chris’s eyes. 

“Fine,” Stiles replies sullenly, slamming the door in protest. Stupid fucking hunters.

Chris watches him go and ignores the guilt that follows.


End file.
